The Education of Gloria Dean

By Huck Pilgrim

Jim Hart has been on the run since he was a boy. A heroin addict from a small town somewhere in the Rust Belt, he has a terrible secret he's been hiding most of his life. He prostituted himself as a boy and he liked it. The shame tears him apart, propelling him into a life of drugs, prostitution, and excess.

 

Gloria Dean is a single mother with her own sordid tales from childhood. A scandal at her high school. An affair with her next-door neighbor. A series of betrayals that force her from her small-town life onto the cold streets of New York City, where she meets her destiny.

 

They fall for one another and Jim soon realizes they have a lot in common. But Gloria knows things about life Jim doesn't. Fortunately for him, she is willing to share. And now you can share that experience too. Based on a true story, The Education of Gloria Dean is the journey of two unlikely heroes who share a powerful connection of sexual shame and exploitation. Their roller-coaster relationship explodes on the page in unchecked desire, fueling a unique healing power. Two desperate characters, both of whom have suffered such miserable childhoods, reach inside to search their deepest depths, explore their truest selves, and plod forward towards recovery. Hold your breath, because this is real: what follows are their most shocking stories, their barest, most base secrets of lust and desire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Huck Pilgrim Presents
• Release date: Oct 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393253365

Huck Pilgrim

Huck Pilgrim has lived on the streets of New York City, in a communal home for Christians, and on an American submarine out of San Diego. He has washed dishes, made costumed helium balloon deliveries, and robbed designer jeans from department stores. Huck writes gritty stories about submission, blackmail, and coercion. Occasionally he tosses a hand grenade of action and adventure into the mix. Huck's stories are vivid fantasies, exploring the darker sides of submission and exposure. In Huck's stories, the mousy girl becomes suddenly bold and capable, often discovering the hidden slut inside her. The men are handsome, hard-bitten, and cruel, enjoying all manner of debauchery. Follow Huck Pilgrim's latest releases by joining his mailing list. http://huckpilgrim.com/news Contact Huck at [e-mail]

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The Education of Gloria Dean

By Huck Pilgrim

Huck Pilgrim Presents

The Education of Gloria Dean © April 2020

by

Huck Pilgrim

First Edition, August, 2019

Cover design © 2019 by James, GoOnWrite.com

Editing: www.bowlerfern.co.uk

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The Education of Gloria Dean

A PhD in being up to no good

Author’s Note

This is a true story based on actual events.

‡

Jim Hart has been on the run since he was a boy. A heroin addict from a small town somewhere in the Rust Belt, he has a terrible secret he’s been hiding most of his life. He prostituted himself as a boy and he liked it. The shame tears him apart, propelling him into a life of drugs, prostitution, and excess.

Gloria Dean is a single mother with her own sordid tales from childhood. A scandal at her high school. An affair with her next-door neighbor. A series of betrayals that force her from her small-town life onto the cold streets of New York City, where she meets her destiny.

They fall for one another and Jim soon realizes they have a lot in common. But Gloria knows things about life Jim doesn’t. Fortunately for him, she is willing to share. And now you can share that experience too. Based on a true story, The Education of Gloria Dean is the journey of two unlikely heroes who share a powerful connection of sexual shame and exploitation. Their roller-coaster relationship explodes on the page in unchecked desire, fueling a unique healing power. These two desperate characters, both of whom have suffered such miserable childhoods, reach inside to search their deepest depths, explore their truest selves, and plod forward towards recovery. Hold your breath, because this is real: what follows are their most shocking stories, their barest, most base secrets of lust and desire.

Full Disclosure

Gloria had the dirtiest stories.

She told raunchy tales about growing up eager for sex, gleefully racing toward her own corruption. Her search for a boy triggered a sex scandal at her high school and wrecked the marriage of a next-door neighbor. After the news broke at school, she finally did meet a guy, but he was just more trouble. In the end, she ran away to New York City and became an overnight sensation in the peep shows on 42nd Street. Her family finally managed to rescue her, but by then it was too late.

Gloria was ruined.

She returned to her small town with a heroin habit, a chip on her shoulder, and an even stronger desire for men. She started dating black guys and soon had a baby. The father left and then she was a single mother.

I met her when Donnell was two years old.

Her innocent good looks hid her troubled past. If I squint my eyes, I can still see that long chestnut hair and those thick chocolate eyebrows. Childbearing had insulted her breasts, but she kept her slender waist and those long, shapely legs. Imagine a pair of big brown eyes, all fresh and eager and staring up at you. Now imagine a fat cock in her mouth. That was Gloria. Her mother wanted her to be a model, and she could easily have done that, but she was just too much of a troublemaker. She liked to shoplift and snort heroin. She was still in touch with the next-door neighbor whose marriage she’d ruined, and she guilt-tripped him into financing her lifestyle or rescuing her.

Gloria’s stories spoke to me because they were so much like my own. I learned about sex by selling my body to men when I was a boy. But while my stories haunted me, Gloria reveled in hers. For me, her stories were like a dark currency, a balm for a troubled past.

This is a story about the power of storytelling.

A story can reveal you to someone else, but also to yourself. A good story can heal you, and make you feel like you belong. Gloria was an amazing girl with an unlucky coming of age. I’m just a chump who got caught up in her life. This is a collection of hard luck tales, but hearing them meant a lot to me. If you tell a story right, it can save you.

A story can set you free.

Part 1: Bad Girl

1

Palmyra

(a small town in Pennsylvania)

1982

It’s early spring. Cold, wet. Green.

Gloria sits in her underwear on her narrow bed, working on a pair of cutoff denim shorts with a pair of scissors. She has never been kissed. Doesn’t even know how to touch herself. Sometimes in the bathtub, she puts her groin under the spout and lets the warm water rush over her, falling down between her legs, pooling around her bottom. It makes her feel warm and good. Holding onto the spout, she stretches one leg right up the wall, the other over the skirt of the tub. She has to exert herself to spread her legs wide enough to get her bottom in the right place. She doesn’t want her dad or mom to find her this way, all spread apart in the family tub. But really, if she is being honest with herself, the risk of being caught, the shame of what she is doing to herself, that’s all a big part of the pleasure for her.

Gloria lays the scissors on the bed, holding up her cutoffs. She has cut too much. Way too much. Disappointment and excitement consume her in equal parts.

Gloria, do you want to come to the mall with me? Her mother calls from downstairs.

Yes!

She slips into the shorts, closing the door to see herself in the mirror. The crotch is just a narrow band of denim and her underwear peeks out on either side. She grins. Turning, she looks over her shoulder. Both her ass cheeks spill out of the back. Slut pants. It would be hard to meet any of her girlfriends from Seven Sorrows at the mall wearing these shorts.

The door swings open and mother’s face immediately falls.

Gloria has already unsnapped the waist and is about to push the shorts down her thighs, but the look of disappointment on her mother’s face stops her cold.

Mom, Gloria says, her voice filled with warning. They have gone to this place so many times already, ever since Gloria’s breasts developed, ever since her first period arrived. Gloria is old enough for sex. She knows it. Her mother knows it. The inevitability of Gloria soon acting on this desire is the primary thing that shapes their relationship now. She has one more year in this house, in this crappy town, and then she’s going to college. Somewhere far away. Somewhere with boys.

Oh, honey. Her mother’s face softens.

All the girls wear them this way, Gloria snaps. That’s not true, but she can’t afford to let her mother get away with that look. Gloria twists her mouth in that way she does, hardening herself for the argument to come.

Mom sits on the bed, inviting Gloria to sit next to her. Plopping down in a sullen heap, Gloria silently chafes. She hears very little of anything her mother says for the next few minutes until finally her mother grabs her by the shoulders.

You could be humiliated! Mom says. Used!

These words rouse Gloria from her stupor. The idea of being sexually humiliated interests her very much. It always has. She has vague fantasies about being forced to do things, sex things. It’s never so much an actual man forcing her, but more of an obligation she feels, an irrepressible authority forcing her to submit, to do some dirty thing that she only knows about in theory. She knows these aren’t appropriate thoughts for a girl her age, and it shames her deeply to have these things in her head. She can’t meet her mother’s eyes. Her pulse is racing. She squeezes her thighs together in a rhythm that matches her breath. Her mom lectures on, her voice fading to a dull monotone. And then mother says something else that breaks through to Gloria. Some men only want you for one thing.

Gloria’s breath catches and she bites her lip. She desperately wants to know that one thing. She presses her knees together. She longs for it to happen, but no boys will even look at her. The feeling between her thighs is intense and frightening.

Mom, she whispers, her voice suddenly hoarse. Mom.

Her mother grips her by the shoulder.

Gloria feels all warm and good like in the tub, but the feeling is fleeting and soon passes and then she finds herself sitting on the bed with her mother staring into her face. Gloria isn’t sure what just happened, but she knows she wants to be alone. She swats her mom’s hand off her shoulder.

Mom kneels before her, looking confused. Honey? Do you get what I’m telling you?

Gloria snaps.

The fight is quick and decisive and soon Gloria is alone. She has a dirty mind. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. A musky odor permeates her room. Stuffing a pillow between her legs, she thinks about taking a bath. She feels so ashamed. Her mother forbade her to wear her shorts out of the house, so that pretty much ensures that Gloria must wear them outside of the house. The only question now is where.

Gloria smiles ruefully.

They are such slutty pants.

2

Gloria’s Bedroom

(the day after the fight with mom)

It’s Saturday.

Dad is coming home from business later today.

Alone in her room, Gloria is wearing a pretty sundress her mom got for her. The hem hangs to just above her knees. Gloria put it on for her dad, even though she doesn’t feel like a good girl this morning. Her mind keeps returning to her mother’s words.

Humiliated. Used.

Gloria slips her panties down, then kicks them off. Lifting the hem, she gazes at the V of her pubic patch. Her thighs are pale, unkissed by the sun. Turning, she looks at her bottom.

Guys want one thing.

When she thinks of the word humiliation, she sees a woman on her hands and knees, a man’s muscled body filling the space behind her. It’s the description of sex she’s found in romance novels available in the school library. Her girlfriends laugh because they know the nuns have carefully selected only the tamest of romance books. Gloria has read them all, but she never takes them out of the library. She hides them inside other books, reading only select parts.

She wanders out onto the front porch.

Her house is on the main street in Palmyra. Cars pass by intermittently, driving at modest speed. Sitting at the top of the front porch stairs, she props her hands behind her and lets her knees fall open. She can feel the cool air between her legs, where cool air is not supposed to be. It’s thrilling to sit outside with no panties on. If her dress were a bit shorter, she would be on display. She opens and closes her legs, enjoying the idea of exposing herself to the eyes of the world. To the eyes of men.

Suddenly she becomes aware of her neighbor. He just moved into the house next door. Standing on a ladder, he’s trimming a big hedge between their houses. The shears make a distinct slicing sound. He is shirtless, wearing overalls, with tan skin and a strong back.

Gloria closes her knees.

Her mother says he’s a farmer from somewhere in the Midwest. South Dakota? His wife is a nurse. She leaves the house in a white uniform and white shoes and is gone for most of the day, every day. The neighbor waves to Gloria, but she pretends she doesn’t notice. She considers going back inside, maybe taking a bath. The slicing sounds resume and she glances back to him. His head is down as he works the hedge.

She satisfies herself that their positions are such that he cannot see between her legs. Opening her knees, she tugs her skirt a little higher. She imagines a boy pulling up in a car and asking her for something—a date (ridiculous), a blow job (she doesn’t know how!), directions? Directions are good. She knows where things are. She knows how to get to the school, to the amusement park, to the chocolate factory in the next town. He’s a good-looking boy, dark. Shirtless. He wants to know if she has a boyfriend and this stumps her. Telling the truth makes her sound lame. What boy wants a girl no one else wants? Just smile. You could be my boyfriend.

She grins. That’s a good answer.

Gloria lays back on the porch, her knees pointed to the street.

This is a game she has played with herself for as long as she can remember. It’s the How I Will Lose My Cherry game. It’s the I Want It So Badly I Might Cry game. The game involves creating long, complicated plots that feature herself and attractive boys who drive around in cars. It’s always a different boy but sometimes it’s the same car. The storylines are a bit circular, but this is the problem of being inexperienced. She wants to end up on her hands and knees, with a shirtless boy behind her. She imagines herself getting into the car with this latest boy, to provide him with whatever pretense the storyline calls for, and to extract from him something she’s not quite sure how to do yet.

It’s the dilemma of ingenue storyteller.

She can hear cars slowly passing in the street. Opening her knees, she feels her stomach tighten. It’s the anxiety that comes with exposing herself, a feeling she knows well. She tugs her hem just a little higher, butterflying her knees. She can hear the neighbor slicing away at his hedge. She has to be careful about undulating her hips too much, or he’ll know. She closes her thighs and holds them together, the pressure sending a satisfying pulse into her tummy.

Gloria rests her arm over her eyes, imagining herself in the car with her make-believe boy. This part of the story is the real pleasure for her, the reason this game is such an engaging pastime. Sometimes she is bold, reaching into the boy’s lap and grabbing hold of the thing she wants most. In her mind she conjures the contours and warmth of a stiff cock. Could she grab a boy this way in real life? It would be just like her to just use her body to express her needs. She could press her breasts into his shoulder, or hum warm breath into his ear. Maybe just turn in her seat to face him, spreading both her knees wide. It would shame her deeply to show a boy her hungry pussy as a way of asking for his attention. The heat rises in her face as she imagines it. The other option is to beg. Admit to the boy that she has no idea what to do, but that she’s willing to learn. This is the equivalent of throwing herself on her knees and it terrifies her. It requires that she admit her ignorance and her desire. Her brow is moist with sweat and she nuzzles her head into her arm, squirming her hips. Opening her knees, she reaches for her skirt. Suddenly she feels the hem and with a sick feeling realizes her skirt is way too high. With a start, Gloria flips her skirt down.

She rises on her elbow, her heart racing. The neighbor is working. His position is such that he could have easily seen her, even though his head is turned now.

An F-150 pickup truck cruises slowly past. Her heart slows to a normal rhythm.

Gloria sits up, resting her back on the porch post, facing the neighbor. Maybe he’s been ignoring her. There’s a delicious sensation between her legs. She bends her knees, tucking her legs underneath her. She reassures herself that he didn’t see her.

He looks at her and grins. Hello, he calls.

Her stomach sinks to her knees.

He is making his way toward her, smiling. He has his t-shirt in his hands. Is your dad around?

Gloria panics. She untangles her legs and tries to rise, but her knees feel suddenly weak. All her strength has been sapped by the mention of her father. My dad?

The neighbor has unstrapped his bib. He has a big, hairy chest. Shoving his head into his shirt, he pulls it down over his torso, then uses both his hands to rub his head, like a little boy. He grins and then his eyes race over her body.

With sudden terror, she realizes her knee is up. She watches in horror as his eyes go to the place between her legs. Her mouth feels dry. She can’t move.

His expression doesn’t change, but neither does his gaze. The drain in the back room is blocked and I don’t have a snake big enough to clear it.

The next minute is perfect agony for her. If she moves, she will call attention to her predicament. If she doesn’t, she is allowing him to stare at her bare pussy. Her heart thuds in her ears.

He grins, finally moving his gaze to her eyes.

My dad? she asks, rousing herself. He’s coming home later today.

The neighbor is nodding. He slips one of his bib straps over his shoulder.

She lowers her knee, putting her thighs together, so that she can sit like a good girl. She tells herself that he didn’t see anything. If he’d have seen, he would have said something. He would have leered. He would have made a joke.

My name is Emmett. He extends his hand.

She stares.

There is a long pause and no one speaks.

Gloria, she finally says. Reaching for his hand, she almost brings her knee back up, but then she catches herself at the last second, quickly repositioning to avoid exposing herself again. She laughs.

He laughs, too, and she wonders what he finds so funny. He rests his arm on the porch post across from her, tilting his head and scrutinizing her.

What are you doing out here, Gloria? I mean, really.

Her face heats up. It’s the way he said that last part. He did see something. Maybe he looked between her legs just now, or maybe he saw her squirming her hips on the porch. Or maybe he saw both, and now he knows she’s the kind of girl who comes out on her front porch to show off what’s between her legs. She takes a deep breath. What answer can she possibly give him? She opens her arms, shrugs her shoulders, and sighs.

He laughs.

It was a good way to answer and she feels a warm pride. She stands and